


Yandere Inamorata Requests 2018-19

by DominantPomegranate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, F/F, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Reader-Insert, Witches, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DominantPomegranate/pseuds/DominantPomegranate
Summary: A new compilation of my requests. Will be tagged as multi-fandom and updated regularly.Updated 12/4.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me here to commission/request from me:
> 
> yandere-inamorata.tumblr.com
> 
> https://twitter.com/pom_inamorata

You end up in the hands of the Shimadas as most do. You were foolish enough to get involved with them, whether it be by working for them, trying to do business with them, or hell, even borrowing money from them.

Surprisingly enough, you hadn’t done any of those things. 

You met Genji through the university that you both attended, and in turn, his brother. You hadn’t actually talked to him all that much, but you had offered him the seat next to you on the very first day of your shared class. The auditorium had been packed, so of course you wouldn’t deny him one of the last spots– you didn’t even know who he was back then.

Apparently, that had been enough for him. The two of you had shared little comments after that, bonding over the mean little comments you tended to make about others. It was only ever harmless chatter, commenting on someones hair or clothing or what not. You had happily agreed to go to lunch with him after one of your classes.

It was only a matter of time before you met Hanzo, and it was all down hill from there.

Something interesting happened when Hanzo and Genji were together. The two of them were a forced to be reckoned with when together, entirely too intimidating and incredibly pressuring. It was difficult to say no when they asked you to do something with them– hell, if they asked you to do anything in general.

You had only put two and two together when somebody had referred to them as the “Shimada Brothers.” If you were being honest, you were an exchange student, your grasp on Japanese wasn’t the best, which turned out to be your down fall.

When you finally realized what kind of family they came from– it was too late.

“P-Please–” You panted, your eyes rolling upward as another wave of pleasure overcame you. “Please, no more, I can’t–”

Genji’s hips grinded against yours, relishing in the way your walls tightened around his cock. He had a little pink, vibrating bullet pressed against your clit, he had held it there for the past hour as he fucked you silly.

Hanzo, on the other hand, was grabbing at your jaw once more, only having momentarily released you so you could catch a breath. He hated it when you passed out, but he loved the sensation of your throat fluttering against the underside of his dick.

The two of them were surprisingly… gentle when they took you, calling you their “precious koneko” or some pet name of that caliber. They always made it a point to bring you what pleasure they could, which was usually a painful amount. Your mind always struggled to rebel, your thoughts skipping like a broken record as you tried to fight against your own pleasure. 

They never failed to make you feel so dirty afterwards, especially after they made you come so hard on their cocks. It would be easier if they would hit you, pull your hair, cut you– anything to make them seem worse in your eyes. Anything to make you hate them. Your mind hated them, but your body could never bring itself to dislike them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Can I request some yandere BNHA men kidnapping reader and trying to win her over? I’d looooove eraser head and present mic if you could do both!! Love your blog!
> 
> Aizawa x reader noncon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me here to commission/request from me:
> 
> yandere-inamorata.tumblr.com
> 
> https://twitter.com/pom_inamorata

With Aizawa being the stealth hero he is, it wasn’t difficult for him to take you. You were a regular civilian, luckily for him. If you had been a hero from UA, he wouldn’t have been able to hide you so easily from the prying eyes of others.

But you were just the manager for a gardener, a cute one at that. UA had liked to keep its campus and building looking nice with various hedges and potted plants. You were assigned to up-keep the plants in the offices and classrooms with your simple plant quirk. You were able to understand plants– not like talking to them or anything. Just how they felt, which gave you an upper hand when it came to taking care of them.

You were never aware how much he liked you. He wasn’t necessarily the talking type, and tended to watch you from afar when you weren’t looking. For Aizawa, looking was enough for only so long. He desperately wanted to talk to you, touch you. Make you smile and laugh and cry and sigh and–

But every time you had tried to talk to him, he came off as his usual, cold, stand-offish self. He wanted to show you how much he liked you, though, but it was just so damn hard! You were so pretty and gentle, nothing like him at all. How could you possibly like someone like him?

You never would. That was Aizawa’s answer to himself.

So he kept his distance, collecting little things of yours that he could. Hairbands, gloves that he managed to swipe while you worked, your handkerchief– anything. Again, it was never enough. Nothing compared to the idea of having you.

So he took you. In a stupid rush of desire and crazed obsession, Aizawa took you as you walked home after work one night. You had barely been able to make a sound as his scarf wrapped around your mouth and your waist, pulling you into an alley as you had been passing by– fabric constricting around your arms as you felt a pinch in your neck. Your world faded out of existence.

You awoke slowly, like an old computer starting up for the first time in years. At first you thought it had been a disturbing dream, lifting your hands to rub at your neck, only to find the skin there obstructed by a strip of thick leather. Your fingers inspected it, wiggling underneath its weight to tug at it. It wouldn’t release, and you swallowed at the clinking sound that followed, hands skimming along to find the chain fasted to the front– length heavy in your hands.

Only then would you open your eyes to your new hell.

There Aizawa would keep you, chained to the wall behind a comfortable full sized bed in a basement or warehouse of some sort. You could never really tell. All you knew was that there were no windows, and Aizawa always brought food from somewhere else. The space still looked very nice, like a homey little bedroom.

It didn’t change how you felt about the situation, or how you felt about Aizawa. You usually met his gentle actions with a fight, never wanting your captor to get too close. That wouldn’t change for a long time. 

Aizawa knew you, though. He had watched you for so long, he had gotten a clear idea of the things you liked, your favorite foods, colors, drinks, hobbies– everything. Hell, he even stocked your favorite type of shampoo. He had wanted you to feel right at home.

He had started by giving you gifts, just little things that had to do with your hobbies or interests. Things to draw or write while he was at school, even books to read. It was only after he had drawn you into his lap (unwillingly) and pulled out his phone so the two of you could look for books you would like to read that you realized you might be able to escape.

That hope was quickly dashed. Aizawa only ever brought his phone for short amounts of time, electing to remove it from the room as soon as the two of you were done using it. You couldn’t even reach the door with the length of your chain being so short– only ever long enough to reach the bathroom, bolted down mini fridge, and the other furniture in the room.

When the gifts didn’t work, Aizawa tried doing things for you. Bathing you, cooking food and feeding you, giving you massages (you never let him get that far.) Surprisingly, he was patient with you. Never pushing you too far. It seemed touching you was all he needed at times.

Other times, though, he held a dangerous look in his eye. You knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he snapped if you kept denying him like this– but you couldn’t sacrifice your own pride. You just couldn’t.

You held that pride of yours stubbornly, and that would be your downfall.

Aizawa had only wanted to spend time with you after a long day, but you were feeling particularly cross with your situation that day. Things had happened so fast after you had torn yourself out of Aizawa’s grasp after he had tried to embrace you, having turned to face him and pushed him away abruptly. You had yelled, screamed at him– you had wanted to take it all out on him. You had called him a monster.

“A monster?” He had repeated, and you fixed him up with a nasty glare. “I’ll show you a monster.”

He didn’t show you much mercy after that, taking little time to push you down onto any nearby surface he deemed appropriate and show you what a real monster was like. He finally got to make you scream and cry, relishing in each little whimper of pleasure or pain you would give him.

He had tried winning you over. It didn’t work. He would control you in other ways.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Oooh! I saw requests are open!! May I request something along the lines of an AU? Like Shouto or Katsuki are witches and they fall in love with a nice kind villager but villager already has a husband or boyfriend? Maybe they try to fix it with love potions, hexes, hypnotism, sorry I’ll let you decide! Thank you!
> 
> witch!Todoroki Shouto x reader (sfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me here to commission/request from me:
> 
> yandere-inamorata.tumblr.com
> 
> https://twitter.com/pom_inamorata

Shouto had easily embedded himself within this town, having charmed most of the higher standing men into welcoming him into their society with open arms. It was almost too easy. For some reason, the non-magicals never accused men of being witches– and even if they did, they tended to put them in holy scripts as prophets or holy healing men or what not.

But that was besides the point.

Shouto had escaped the Salem witch trials at the end of the 1600s. Well, ‘escaped’ wasn’t really the right word. Many women had taken the fall, causing a ruckus in order to keep their covens hidden as other witches escaped or took measures to protect themselves.

Shouto’s coven had been small to begin with, really only consisting of his family and a few others. His sister and mother had faked their death, pretending to drown or burn at the stake. His father had pretended to be distraught at having married and bred with a ‘wicked woman,’ and had ‘given his life to God in order to repent.’ It was all very dramatic for the towns people, and Shouto couldn’t help but laugh as he stood next to his very much alive mother and sister to watch.

If only it was so easy to kill witches.

Shouta had since separated from his coven, leaving to find someone to spend his life with– seeing as his coven mostly consisted of older witches. Maybe one day he would return. Maybe he would start a coven with his new lover. Who knew what his future would bring him.

Now he was settled in a bustling, decently sized hub down. It would be easy to hide in plain sight there, as well as sell witch remedies and spells for non-magicals. Bigger towns like these tended to be a little more… open-minded when it came to witches. Especially if it benefited them and the witches were discreet about who they talked to about their clients.

Shouto had just finished putting together a sleeping spell when he heard the bell signal someone had entered the shop.

“Hello?” A small, unsure voice called from the shop front.

“Yes, just a moment.” He returned, packaging the spell in a little cloth bag before finding his way to the counter. “How can I help–”

He was taken aback when he caught sight of you. You were far too pretty to be around these parts. Shouto didn’t have the best location. Someone like you would be an easy target around these parts. Your eyes held a softness, as did your hands. He could feel the energy about you. It was gentle, barely even brushing against him to the point where he thought it was merely the breeze through the window.

“I’m here for a h-health spell?” You offered, breaking Shouto out of his thoughts as you stared. “S-Sorry, you aren’t quite what I was expecting.”

Shouto shook himself out of his thoughts, immediately putting on the charm with a deep chuckled. “What were you expecting? Probably a long haired woman with scarves and tattoos, right?” You nodded, and he smiled, shaking his head. “Long hair gets in the way, as do scarves. As for the tattoos, well…” He thought for a moment. “I don’t much care for the pain, I suppose.”

That made you giggle, and he felt something foreign in his heart. What a beautiful sound. He could listen to it forever. Shouta had to pursue you.

He prepared your spell, making small talk as he did, throwing in little complements that made you blush.

“So, who is this health spell for?” He questioned, glancing over at you cheekily as you sat, waiting. “You don’t look unhealthy. Far from it.”

“Well, it’s for my husband.” You said without hesitation, and his hands stilled for a moment. “He has been sick for quite a while now. I used to get my health spells from another witch, but she has recently quit her business. I was lucky she told me about your store so I could continue taking care of him.”

Shouto was silent for a moment, hands returning to work as nodded. “That is… unfortunate. Hopefully my spells can bring him to good health.” With that, Shouto added the final ingredient and packaged up your spell, turning to you with a soft smile on his face. “Here you are, use this spell on him in the morning and he should be in good health within the hour.”

You had thanked him enthusiastically, leaving your payment and a tip on the counter before leaving.

“Thats a shame.” Shouto muttered, staring at the doorway you had just passed through. “A damn shame.”

\-------------------

You and Shouto remained like this for a while, Shouto always paying you little compliments and small talk as he prepared your spell. It only made him adore you more, hearing about all of the things you did in your spare time, what flowers you most enjoyed, the clothing you made for a living.

It wasn’t fair, and he hated thinking that. He hated juggling the dark thoughts within his own mind. How much he wanted you as his own, how you were wasted on some sickly old man. He could give you so much. Treat you so much better than that worthless man ever could.

But he couldn’t upset the balance. For anything he did, he would surely the same treatment in three-fold. That was the rule of three.

He talked to the Gods frequently in the weeks to come, asking for a sign. He promised he was doing you a favor, freeing you from the shackles of a sickly man who was unable to take care of you. He simply wanted to take care of you, to put your husband out of his misery. He was doing good.

Whether it was the Gods giving him permission, or his own delusional mind– Shouto would do it.

It was easy, really. A matter of switching just two ingredients when it came to your husband’s health spell. One was to kill him, and the other was to delay the effect. He had been making his spells weaker in the past few weeks in order to create the illusion of your husband’s health declining. You hadn’t even noticed, or asked. You thought Shouto could do no wrong.

He waited in nervous agony for the days following the deliverance of his death spell. There was no way it wouldn’t work. He was a professional, after all. Unless you hadn’t given it to him for some reason.

His fears were quelled when he saw you in the market place after nearly a week and a half of not seeing you. He had called your name, heart panging with guilt when you turned to face him, your eyes water and expression pain.

“Oh dear,” He feigned, coming closer as you wiped at your eyes. “Whats wrong? Don’t tell me…”

“Yes.” You answered, and he clasped your hands within his own. It was too easy. Too easy to pull you into his arms and embrace you as you began to lead you to his shop, offering you a free reading and some nice, calming tea.

Little did you know, you wouldn’t be going back home. Not that night, not ever again.

It was too easy. Too easy.


End file.
